


Not All Right In This Little Town

by hssg (mmmdraco)



Category: Hanson
Genre: BDSM, M/M, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/hssg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zachary as Taylor's Master in this thing I wrote ages and ages ago and just found. XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not All Right In This Little Town

Slowly, he brushed his fingers up her sides, responding warmly to her giggles. "So, Melinda, what position are we going to try tonight?"

Suddenly, Melinda's form morphed into that of his brother. "Zac? What are you doing here?"

Zac smiled at him playfully. "Don't be surprised, Tay. You want me badly."

Taylor started to shake his head, but found himself taking in the sight of his brother's beginning muscles. Embarrassed, he turned away and tried to calm his erection, but to no avail.

Mere moments later, he felt warm lips on his neck, backed by a furious sucking that brought moans to his own lips and allowed him to imagine lips being elsewhere. Soft hands made their way up his sides, gradually reaching around him -- one hand to his excited nipples, the other to his evermore excited cock. The sensations that overloaded Taylor's mind within the next few seconds were better than anything he remembered enjoying before.

It was only a few minutes of those warm lips and soft hands focused on key areas of his body before he came with a groan and woke up.

* * *

Taylor looked up and saw Zac watching him and asked, "What the hell do you want?"

Zac laughed a low cloud of pleasure. "Never knew guys jerked off in their sleep. I must say, it was certainly interesting to watch. Now, Tay, you might want to take your hand out of your pants and go get a shower."

Red faced, Taylor noticed that his right hand was buried deep beneath the covers and his boxers, coated unevenly with the residue of his latest bout of pleasure. "God, Zac. What? Are you gay?"

Zac shrugged and said, "Well, dude, I don't believe in labels. But, I'm open. Bi, I guess you'd call it."

A deep breath later, Taylor was on his way to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

Later that day, Taylor was sitting in the living room watching TV. Nothing interesting was on, so he made a split-second decision to abuse his newly-received driver's license and take a trip into "town." While laughing at his phrasing of the act in his mind, he grabbed his keys, walked out of the house, hopped in his car and sped off.

Just outside the Tulsa city limits, he saw a new building and decided to go investigate. Parking just outside the unlabeled building with only a dozen other cars or so, he walked up to the blacked-out door. Seeing no signs of people outside of the building, he pushed the door a bit and almost fell into the building. He righted himself with the door frame and ventured further into the abnormally dark building and into whatever abyss lay ahead.

He reached the end of the hallway that led from the door into the main section of the building and pushed his way past the black velvet curtains studded with tiny, dull spikes and eyelet loops into a pulsing scene of black and strobe lights, people in skimpy black clothing writhing to an inaudible beat and a vast expanse of chains that held half of the people into a line from wall to wall as one to three people made their way around them.

With a sudden click, the lights became of fluorescent nature and Taylor's mouth dropped open. These people weren't in skimpy black clothing. They were in skimpy black body paint that was streaked haphazardly across their bodies adorned with a collection of dog collars, slave bracelets and handcuffs of all varieties. A girl with black hair just a shade lighter than her body paint stepped forward from her place next to a Bob Moffatt look-alike with a grin on his face and chains on his ankles to say, "Welcome to Tulsa's newest teen Goth sadio-masochist dance and sex club. Want to become a member?"

With a laugh and a hint of sarcasm, Taylor shrugged his shoulders and said, "Where do I sign?" while secretly wishing he was one of the guys already there with a smile the size of France and an erection the size of China.

Approximately two seconds later, he had a pen in hand and a sign-up form on a clipboard in front of him. Reading over the form, he found himself very interested in the idea. Noticing that there was no fee to join, he scrawled answers in all the required blanks and signed his name on the bottom line. "So, guys and gals... How do I know whether I'm a sadist or a masochist?" He was only vaguely familiar with the terms.

The only guy not in handcuffs spoke up. "Well, do you prefer to give pain or receive it?"

Normally, he wouldn't be so comfortable with announcing his feelings on such a subject, but he was in a room of naked people, most of which were chained up. "Uh, receive."

The same guy spoke. "So, you're a masochist. Are you a dominant or a submissive?"

In a weak voice he gave his answer, knowing the terms this time. "Submissive."

The only blond girl in the assembled group laughed. "Well, he's got the role down. Can't wait until he starts coming to meetings. We'll have fun at role-playing. Say, uh," she glanced at his form, "Taylor... are you doing the whole Goth thing? 'Cause you'd turn us all on if you'd dye that hair."

Taylor nodded. To him few things were better than having someone play with his hair, no matter what they were doing to it. "Um, what color?"

The blond laughed again. "Well, let's see. Goth club, all black make-up and the dominant hair color in the room is black. What do you think?"

He laughed this time. "Hmm... black?"

"Oh, we've got ourselves a smart one here."

* * *

Taylor Hanson was dressed as a Goth. He had midnight black hair hanging just past his shoulders with a white part down the very center, thick coal black eyeliner rimming his bloodshot eyes that sported menacing blue contact lenses, pale powder accented by a perfect black pout and several black lipstick kisses on his cheeks along with a few on his neck to cover hickey and bite marks. A tight black turtleneck hugged his bones as his black velvet pants fell loosely on his hips and rarely touched his legs. Black leather boots graced his feet. His aura gave all a chill and a quickening of pulse as a dose of heady pheromones filled their senses and sent them into a frenzy of passion.

But these parts of his "costume" were of no importance. Of much more importance were the black handcuffs slapped on his wrists that he pretended not to love, the chains he acted as though he were trying to be freed from and the faked gasps of pain floating above the orgasmic whispered moans that leaked past his sable lips as the coiled whip lashed against his velvet covered ass.

But of most importance was the name of the person whipping him into such pleasure. It was his own brother, Zachary Hanson, a recent recruit to the club. Zachary had the same basic look that Taylor carried off, only his hair was cropped short and he wore no chains or handcuffs. However, he did give loud moans of pleasure from time to time and was on the other wide of the whip with a humongous grin on his face.

Zachary laid a final length of leather across Taylor's ass, then tossed the whip to the side, not being able to handle the temptation of Taylor's slightly convulsing body any longer. He could bark out orders like a drill sergeant and turn everyone around him into a willing submissive and so he used this ability. "Slave. Remove my pants and give me the best head of my life."

"Yes, Master."

Taylor rose from the floor in painful pleasure and raised his head to the front of his younger brother's pants. With careful movements, he unbuttoned the baggy black jeans and slid the zipper down with this teeth. Rising to his feet, he slid his handcuffed arms over his master's head and lowered them down to rest on Zac's firm ass while he lowered himself to his knees. He hooked his thumbs down below the the top of the pants and grasped the elastic in his master's boxers. He then began a small show of back-and-forth with the garments as his master liked. As the clothing fell past Zac's thinning hips and to the floor, he began to lick his way up Zac's all but bare set of legs until he reached their meeting place. After a moment too long of enjoying the taste of his master's boyish thighs, he received a scraping of black lacquered nails across his already-raw upper back. He thrust his head back and gasped, only to feel his master shove his member into the waiting orifice of his mouth.

Taylor backed off the throbbing penis with careful licks of his nimble tongue. Once only the tip was still in his mouth, he began a wet massage of it's surface area with a thin coating of saliva and that nimble, young tongue. He pulled his lips over his teeth and began allowing his master access to his "cunt of a face."

Without gagging, Taylor downed the six-inch length and let loose with a vibration of epic proportions upon the thin dick he had allowed access by allowing his vocal chords the use of all of his air. Stopping only to push his head forward even more and suck in more air around his brother's cock, as his brother screamed in ecstasy, the room was a constant cacophony. Any simultaneous silence by the brothers was punctuated by a moan from their willing audience.

As Taylor sucked his master's dick expertly, Zac handled the situation up grabbing large chunks of Taylor's opal-colored hair and pulling them until he felt moans massage his dick as he thrust his way into his slave's mouth with no hesitation or concern, knowing that the willing and now experienced throat could handle it. Feeling his balls rise up, Zac called out above the noise, "Slave, swallow all but one mouthful."

Taylor replied gratefully as the thick white trails of his master's sperm hit the back of his throat. He gave a final suck while pulling his head back from the delicious dick and kept his master happy by saving one mouthful, savoring it's sweet taste on his tongue.

Zac only rested a moment before he was hard again. "Well, slave. Second round. Take your clothes off, spit my cum in your hand and lube your ass while I put the nipple clamps on you."

Zac stepped out of the hug of Taylor's hands which had, until that moment, still been resting on his ass, and walked away to a nearby room. Taylor hastily threw off his clothing as best he could with the handcuffs and chains still on and awaited his favorite "torture." He raised one bonded hand to his mouth while pulling the other to around chin level, then let his master's seed spill from his mouth to his hand. He carefully closed his hand around the prized possession and sat back to arrange himself better for his lubing. He slid one long leg through the space between his arms, handcuffs and torso and gently applied the sperm to his ass hole. He worked it in with a rather inexperienced finger and yearned for the orgasmic pain that only a little working would bring.

While his legs were still straddling the cuffs and he was still sitting back with a finger all the way up his ass hole, Zac applied the nipple clamps roughly with quick movements and gave the connecting chain an affectionate tug. "C'mon, Tay. One more finger in once, then, into position. C'mon... I want to fuck you now."

Though the comment did ruin a bit of the dominant sadist/submissive masochist mood, it incited a bigger yearning within Taylor to have his brother's penis inside of him. Getting into a kneeling position with his head on the ground and his knees pulled apart and forward, he readied himself for the oncoming attack of a six-inch column of flesh being pushed into him.

When it happened, Taylor rode the wave of pain in an instant orgasm and filled every inch of the room with his unconcealed moans and screams. As Zac pushed into him time and time again with moans of his own, Taylor forfeited the game with screams of "Yes, Master! Please!"

Zac cried "Slave!" at the top of his lungs as he released a second load of passion into his brother, in another orifice this time, causing his brother to come with a force of his own from his slightly longer and slightly wider dick that came from a few more years of living. As Zac pulled out with a few raspy breaths and thanks, the audience began to applaud. The duo on the floor collapsed into each other's arms and slept for a while to regain their strength.

* * *

Taylor felt cold water being splashed on his face as he awoke with a start. "Dammit, Zac! You'll ruin my make-up!"

He was promptly slapped. "A slave should never talk to his master like that. Next time you do that, I'm not letting you get off for a week."

Giving a tiny nod of understanding, Taylor noticed the feel of the cold, wet steel under his back and relished the sensations it gave him. He enjoyed the fact that he was chained to it a lot, but enjoyed most the fact that Zachary had been the one to chain him down.

Zac pulled a thick black blindfold over Taylor's eyes and pressed a forceful, passion-filled kiss to his swollen lips and invaded his mouth with a nimble tongue much like Taylor's own that threatened his consciousness. Taylor fought to maintain control of himself, but he was a trained slave and couldn't bring himself to want control. Besides, he had signed a contract turning his very being over to Zachary. It might not be legally binding, but in his mind, it was willing bondage.

How he even got involved with this, he didn't know. After having dreams about his brother all those years, he found himself finally willing to reveal his feelings. One day Zac had come in the room after a shower and was drying off as he usually did. He had pulled off the towel from around his waist and began drying his penis first thing while letting his blond hair drip water languidly onto the floor. Taylor has gasped at the sheen his brother gave off and without realizing it, he's scurried from his place on his bed to a kneeling position in front of his brother and said, "Master, your wish is my command. If I have done right, hurt me. If I have done wrong, only let me watch you and that will be punishment enough in itself."

That had started a long talk between the brothers about a relationship. Though they agreed that it might be immoral, it was fun and meant a lot to both of them. Though it was, in essence, only a game where they were Master and Slave; they grew to accept the roles.

They never participated in the game outside of a welcoming area, but kept ideas in their collective four heads; forever.


End file.
